Behind You
by PersonOfDisinterest
Summary: Amanda learns a valuable lesson: never let your guard down.
1. Amanda

Amanda was hot and sweaty. The natural sheen to her skin glistened beneath the dim light of the room, tucked away inside the abandoned living quarters. She had this tiny corner of the derelict station all to herself. No humans, not a Working Joe in sight, and certainly not a black, terrifying vision of every childhood nightmare multiplied a hundredfold. No, Amanda was alone – and glad for it. After hours of playing a lethal game of cat and mouse, she finally had a chance to unwind. But first, she needed to get out of her boiler suit.

The plain, dark military green uniform did well to insulate Amanda when her working conditions slipped towards the chillier end of the scale. But with fear-induced adrenaline pumping through the young engineer's veins as she pressed herself against the back walls of narrow personnel lockers, sweat dripping from her armpits and down the shallow crevice of her spine, the suit quickly became a stifling trap for Amanda's body heat.

The boiler suit was typically a loose, comfortable fit. Thickly woven, it padded down and flattened the feminine contours of her body. Not that she had much to show off in the first place. Amanda thought she was rather unremarkable in that department.

A gaze coolly shaded green coupled with the dry, straightforward tone she preferred did enough to make her appear cold and uninteresting. She supposed the freckles underneath her eyes were cute, dotted around lightly defined cheekbones. Her hair was russet brown in colour, brushing her shoulders once she pulled it free of the simple band maintaining her short, high ponytail. She shook loose her thin locks, grimacing as she combed her fingers back through sweat-damp hair.

Amanda lowered her hands afterwards to the zipper at the front of the suit, tugging apart the teeth. An old, faded denim shirt served as a textured layer beneath it. Amanda's distaste was evident as she felt the grimy cotton of the tank top she wore underneath that cling to her skin. The shirt wasn't hiding much either as she pulled her left arm out of one of the boiler suit's sleeves. Puberty came and went and the young woman barely filled out a full B-cup. She was nothing much to look at, nothing to fawn over, except for the one thing that turned Amanda's otherwise indifference for her working attire towards irritation.

Countless hours squatting in front of machines in need of repair had conditioned her legs, making her resilient to the cramps that would have plagued her otherwise as she carefully picked her way around the Sevastopol. It was a literal pain in the beginning, but something she had long since gotten used to. By now it was nothing to her, merely a facet of the job, inconsequential - had not Ripley genetics decided to fill out her lower half rather than her chest.

The fabric of the boiler suit fit all too snugly around her bottom, stretching – comfortably at least, thank goodness – around full globes of womanly flesh. The suit outlined the curves of her ass whenever Amanda squatted down, conforming to her plump shape. She could feel it stretch around the back of her thighs, pulled tight...even the slightest movement left her with the impression of a ghostly caress, the boiler suit pressing up into the crack between her soft cheeks. The inexplicable wiggle of thighs and hips drew looks and raised eyebrows. Amanda had had to covertly work out a few wedgies in her time, often with muttered cursing and the averting of her gaze from nearby peers.

She had long since resigned herself to the fact that her ass would always find a way to earn itself attention. Amanda, sometimes, quietly appreciated it, though it was the cause of flushed cheeks and embarrassment when she first realised just how well the uniform defined her assets. More often than not, that attention was irksome, particularly when wayward hands decided to stray. Amanda had threatened more than one male colleague with a spitting plasma torch when a brush against her backside was most definitely not 'accidental'.

If there was one thing the engineer was not, it was a damn petting gallery.

Pulling her other arm free, she pushed the suit down to her waist. The front zipper stopped just below her navel, so it took some wriggling of her hips to work the suit down past her plump glutes. That was another small pain Amanda simple had to learn to endure; getting in and out of the thing, all thanks to the extra junk in her trunk. The suit caught onto the band of her panties as she tugged it down, sliding them halfway down her buttocks before she noticed and paused.

With a huff, Amanda craned her neck to look over her shoulder. She spied the cotton-white of her underwear pinched between one of the folds of her uniform. The shape of her back pushed out her tush an inch or two, and she glimpsed the soft round curve of creamy white cheeks. The engineer lightly bit her lip after untangling her panties from the suit. It wasn't above her to enjoy a small moment of vanity. Amanda liked to think that her ass was the object of a few fantasies. She was reserved, for the most part, but she wasn't a prude. She knew a trick or two that appealed to the eye.

Amanda hooked her thumbs into her panties as she slowly shimmed out of her uniform. The suit was tight around her hips as it pressed into her shapely rear, etching dimples into soft, yielding flesh. Slipping down to the back of her legs, the young woman trapped her full, luscious ass between her forearms, tugging up the stretched band of her panties until it pressed into the smooth curvature of firmly toned thighs.

Pulling upwards and pushing inwards with her wrists, the young woman squashed together her cushy, apple-shaped bottom. In the moment she wished for a mirror. Being able to fully appreciate the picture she had created was something else entirely. A deep line of cleavage plunged between her plump cheeks and a steamy thought crossed the engineer's mind. However, almost as soon as the playful image of a long finger sliding teasingly down into her tight crack took shape, the small slant of Amanda's pale pink lips faltered at the emergence of another: Axel, the cold barrel of his revolver pressed to the back of her head as, shaking, she slowly lifted her hands in surrender.

"Don't fuckin' move," the Irishman had hissed, yanking the heavy wrench from Amanda's slick grasp. "Hands against the door, now!"

In hindsight, Amanda thought if she turned around quickly enough she could have brained the bastard. She didn't believe, now, that he would be prepared to actually pull the trigger. But hindsight was 20/20 and such things were easier said when your heart wasn't pounding in your throat.

Trembling as she lay her palms flat against the cold, thick steel, Amanda endured with gritted teeth a poor excuse for a full body search. There were only two things the Irishman could have been looking for as his hand snaked around to her front, crawling up the front of her boiler suit with probing fingers, and it was soon evident that what he found wasn't up to snuff. Amanda didn't know whether or not it was a blessing in the moment that her uniform practically flattened her chest, but Axel's attempt to grope her was brief.

She yelped when the man stepped in close, pressing himself against the dark, faded blue-grey duffel bag strapped across her left shoulder. He smelt like he hadn't seen a shower cubicle in days, Amanda's nostrils pinching at the strong musk. She caught her breath when Axel's hips curved forward at the same time a wandering hand slipped down between her thighs, and suddenly the young woman was no longer counting her blessings. A hoarse grunt escaped the man's throat as she felt him grind against her, a sharp whimper leaving her lips as something stiff poked into her ass.

"There's a ship! I came in a ship," Amanda blurted out, cutting through the man's husky ramblings about some kind of monster prowling the station.

"There are no ships, sweetheart."

"There is now," Amanda said quickly, swallowing as Axel leaned in and sniffed her hair, "the Torrens. I can get you a place on board, but it's going to leave any moment now if I don't get in contact with the captain."

That last part was a halfway between the truth and a lie. She had no idea how long Verlaine was willing to wait; she could only hope the woman was a patient one. Amanda just needed the Irishman to believe her, here and now. It was her lucky day, he told her seconds later, when his fear of the thing apparently hunting him proved greater than the need to sate his arousal. In the moment, Amanda was all too happy to agree. When a black, spiked tail later exploded out of Axel's chest and dragged the man screaming into the vents in a gory splatter of blood, Amanda was no longer so sure.

She had nothing to fear from it now though, Amanda told herself again, sitting down on the edge of a bunk and rolling the boiler suit down her legs. The creature was gone, locked in the Project KB348 Labs and jettisoned entirely off the Sevastopol. Amanda shuddered at the thought that she had almost been trapped along with it, no thanks to that bastard Waits. She turned the air blue when she got back aboard the station. Amanda's nerves were too raw to go back and face him now. She'd be more than inclined to club the man with her wrench. Heavens knew the temptation was real, sitting there just beneath the skin. The wet crunch of hefty metal meeting a perpetual sneer was a disturbingly satisfying idea.

Finally, Amanda kicked off the boiler suit, flailing her right foot in the air for a few moments when it stubbornly clung on. She shrugged out of the denim shirt next, the textured material slipping down her shoulders. Amanda balled it up and tossed it onto the floor. That left her in her panties and a plain black vest as she carefully ducked her head underneath the upper bunk's metal railing, bringing her legs up onto the bed and folding them. Her hand rose to toy with the small key looped around her neck with a length of thin string as she leaned against the wall. The key to her locker aboard the Torrens, Amanda briefly wondered if she would ever get the chance to use it again. Then she shook her head. That was defeatist talk.

God, she just needed a break.

A grimace rose to her face when Amanda sat up and her vest peeled away from her back, glued to her shoulder blades by sweat residue. She was in desperate need of a shower. Free of her suit and shirt, the smell of Amanda's pits filled her nostrils and she was glad to be alone. She was filthy and could feel the grime soiling her skin. After being relentlessly hunted down, forced to crawl on hands and knees through cramped vents and whimper soft prayers as she curled herself amongst the shadows, coupled with the pungent smell of accumulated fear around her, Amanda felt like animal.

Her face grew warm with embarrassment, briefly, as the locker key bumped against her collarbone. With no one around, however, the young woman realised she didn't need to care that she stank. She had the room to herself - the entire living quarters. Solitude, right now, was the existence she craved, and Amanda was determined to enjoy it. She would damn well revel in it. She had earned the right. She'd survived.

A shower then, could wait. She wanted to be filthy, wanted to obey a baser instinct for a moment other than the one that had somehow kept her alive for so long. Pleasure was the great reliever of tension, the ultimate reminder that she was alive. Amanda, bluntly, wanted to fuck, wanted to selfishly rut like an animal. The admission didn't shame her; the lack of willing partner annoyed her, though. However, there were always alternatives. So she lowered her hand from the key around her throat, unfolding her legs as it strayed down towards her stomach, and in a Marshal Bureau someplace else in the Sevastopol, an older man staring avidly at a grainy screen wrapped a warm, pudgy hand around the stiff length of his cock.


	2. Waits

When she turned back up on the Sevastopol promising blue murder, Waits wondered whether he'd have to dump the engineer in one of the Bureau holding cells for an hour or two to calm down. She was certainly armed enough to cause trouble, both physically with an array of junk-turned-weaponry and in disposition. The woman didn't sound too pleased, yelling at him through the radio. Waits had more than enough experience with the antics of displeased women.

In this particular circumstance though, he supposed Ripley had plenty reasons to be pissed off. Perhaps he would be too, in her shoes. At the end of the day, however, he had a job to do and people to keep safe.

Waits thought he was being reasonable; was it worth the sacrifice of one life to protect many others? Yes. And it helped that all the pieces fit nicely together along with it. Ripley was trusting, the hellish creature seemed preoccupied with hunting her and she knew her way around the station's busted electronics. Who the hell else was he supposed to send? Waits himself was certainly no hero. His only real regret was the loss of one fine piece of ass.

He'd cast an appraising glance over her when she turned up after surviving his failed trap to kill the creature. Ripley wasn't exactly the prettiest thing he had ever lain eyes on, though she wasn't necessarily a sore sight either. She was just rather plain and her attire did her no favours. Whatever curves the woman might have had were hidden underneath her suit, and either way she didn't priortise showing them off. She was at her companions' side in a moment and interrogating him about medical bays the next. It was only after he had petulantly sent the engineer off to patch up the Transit Control Center that Waits found himself mistaken about the woman's lack of feminine charms.

As she jogged away, Waits was able to appreciate the sculpted shape of Ripley's backside, courtesy of the tight fit of her boiler suit. He watched until she disappeared up the stairs, mouth forming something of a leer as he privately enjoyed the moment. The rest of his men were busy attending to the other woman, Taylor. She was nothing much to look at either, but it was hard to tell when she was severely injured and drifting half in and out of consciousness. Waits supposed she might score a few more points on his scale if she took off her glasses and shook out her conservatively pinned up hair. The woman looked bookish and all around uninteresting.

Back to the present, Waits was more than pleasantly surprised that Ripley had survived. He brushed off her accusations with the success of his plan, the monster stalking her no doubt crushed to less than dust by KG348's gravity well. That she was still alive was an added bonus, for both of them. He still had a useful engineer to hand and Ripley, her life. Not to mention the opportunities he would have to study the real woman's assets. A memory was only so sweet. Said opportunities came about sooner than Waits had expected, however, as Ripley took off and found herself a quiet, lonesome corner in the Sevastopol; an empty living quarters where she appeared to be making herself right at home.

Waits was enjoying every single moment of it. From the Bureau he had idly watched her make her way across the station, tapping into the Sevastopol's shrinking network of functional cameras as he drafted up a plan of action now that the creature was out of the equation. The living quarters Ripley had discovered curved to match the shape of the corridor outside it and Waits had access to a pair of cameras placed along its length. A large transparent window allowed a direct view into the common room, a round table stationed in the middle with a trio of plain brown leather sofas sitting around it. Waits, however, found he could angle one of the cameras to peer into one of the bunk rooms.

The door between it and the common room absent, the Marshal earned himself a somewhat obstructed view of a young woman stripping down out of her uniform.

An older gentleman he may have been, but that didn't stop Waits from stirring in his pants. Right then a small thumbnail sitting in the corner of the monitor, he quickly pulled up the camera feed to fill the central portion of the computer screen. The already poor picture quality degraded even further and the man cursed at the grainy filter he was forced to look through. Still, considering what he was looking at, Waits figured only a fool would discount his luck.

Part of her out of shot thanks to the door frame, Waits watched as Ripley apparently struggled to work her hips out of the boiler suit. It gave him ample time to let his eyes rove over her fine plump cheeks, packed tightly into the suit and presently squashed between her arms. Waits fiddled with the camera settings and zoomed in as far as he could without sacrificing too much picture clarity.

Afterwards, the Marshal leaned back in his chair. That was an ass he wouldn't mind bending over his desk. A knee between her thighs would spread her legs apart and he'd cuff her hands behind her back. Waits figured Ripley would be the type to kick up a fuss. He would win that fight, obviously, in fact he almost wished the woman had stormed the Bureau like she promised him. Waits could do with a distraction, something to bleed off the tension he felt in his back and shoulders. Screwing a twenty something year old woman's brains out sounded perfect for the job.

Of course, the presence of his colleagues rendered that fantasy null and void. If only he were alone. Idly, the Marshal glanced over at the Bureau's rudimentary med-bay. Taylor was out like a light in there, for the moment unattended by Samuels who was currently talking with Ricardo, Waits' deputy, out in the foyer. Waits mulled over the thought for a moment, then shook it out of his head. That was low, even for him. Again, perhaps if he were alone in the Bureau...No, the man thought it best not to consider the idea any further. He turned back to the computer monitor.

Ripley had her legs spread open. Finally free of her engineer's outfit, she had tucked herself into one of the bunks and propped her back against the wall. Waits, thanks to the position she'd taken and the door frame partially blocking the camera's view, could only see just about half of the young woman's body. It was enough, however, to have him finally throw caution aside and reach down to unbuckle his belt.

Ripley was slowly massaging herself through her panties as Waits unzipped and beneath the table pulled his cock out into the open. He tugged on its stiffening length as she tipped back her head and through her tank top cupped the small bumps on her chest. They looked hardly any bigger than when she had been fully dressed, merely appetisers on the way to the main course. Waits willed the young engineer to face her back to him, balancing herself on her knees as she reached around to sink a finger or two into her cunt. Ripley denied him the view he wanted most though, quickly pulling her panties to the side altogether.

Waits smirked as the woman brought her hand away some moments later with what looked to be disappointment. A nice, hard cock would be just the thing to cheer her up. Waits was nice and hard, though the tight grip of his hand was not the best company. Had he had things his way he would be warm and snug between Ripley's legs, grunting his pleasure as he held onto her hips. A good fuck was exactly what the engineer needed to cure her of the cheek she had given him earlier. He could think of better uses for that crude mouth, too. Waits pumped his meat; what a sight it would be to split her frowning lips open around his shaft.

The Marshal wondered what Ripley was up to when she moved out of shot, seemingly reaching for something. He leaned in, curious. His brow wrinkled when she pulled her duffel bag up onto the bunk and rummaged impatiently through the contents. What was she looking for? The answer almost made him laugh out loud.

"Christ, Ripley," Waits murmured through his grin, "you're one helluva slut."

"Hey, Marshal."

Waits jumped, startled by the disembodied voice. He winced sharply afterwards when the action smacked his knee into the bottom of the desk. The Marshal shoved himself back into his pants and pulled his chair forwards, turning to scowl at the face leering at him through a holding cell door's porthole.

"Marlow!" Waits hissed.

"Enjoying yourself?" the man asked him, grinning.

"Get away from the window, Marlow," Waits ordered, roughly zipping up.

"Don't know about that," he replied, "I'm enjoying the show as much as you are." Marlow's smirk widened. "I'm not too sure Mama Ripley would be too happy about an old man jerking off to her little girl, though."

Waits swiped a random sheet of paper off of his desk and stood to his feet. Marlow's laughter, slightly muffled by the door of the holding cell, was nonetheless audible as the Marshal slammed a thin leaflet over the glass of the window, holding it in place with a ball of sticky tack.

"Can't perform to an audience, Waits?" Marlow called out as he retook his seat.

"Sit down and shut up," Waits retorted. "You're a rat trapped in a cage and I can make things mighty uncomfortable for you in there."

Marlow chuckled. "Alright, man. Relax, I'll let you beat one off to the girl in pe -"

The Sevastopol shook. All manner of documents and stationary clattered to the ground, Waits hands leaping out to grip onto the desk as the floor beneath his feet briefly shuddered. They jumped up to save the computer when it slid precariously towards him. Waits noticed immediately that the window displaying the camera feed he had been watching was now little more than a flickering screen of static.

The Marshal's priorities were most certainly in order as thickset fingers flayed the keyboard in order to restore the connection. Marlow's distraction had softened him between the legs and his impatience flared as the station's camera network sluggishly responded to his attempts to gain access. A growing sense of frustration gave an edge to his temperament as the computer scrawled a single line of text across his screen: CAMERA OFFLINE.

Waits was far from as proficient in computing as he would have liked to be in that moment. The man knew enough to get his reports written and catalogued in the Sevastopol's database; the rest he left to the nerds, thickly rimmed glasses and all. So it was several minutes before he was able to bring the cameras outside Ripley's living quarters back online again. When he did, the Marshal's stubborn jaw unclenched. He sat forwards, face pale with the light reflecting off the computer monitor and eyes wide in disbelief. His carefully laid plans, the ever mounting sacrifices he and his men had been forced to make - rendered meaningless, all of it.

Ripley was standing in the doorway with a hand resting against the frame, facing the common room. The young woman stood completely still, and she never blinked. A long shadow roved over her stiff, trembling body, slinking down towards her thighs. And behind her, behind her was -

"Goddamn it," Waits muttered.


	3. Sevastopol

Amanda had something of a secret, one that lent a blush to her cheeks even to admit to herself.

The sexual adventures of her teens and beyond were not particularly sordid, but with each experience under her belt the young woman took notice of a pattern. It decided whether she had to fake her groans to save her partner the embarrassment, or slowly and unconsciously lick her lips when her romp for the night dropped his pants.

Put simply, the truth was that Amanda Ripley was a size queen. The fuller she felt, the better. So it was with frustration prickling hotly underneath the engineer's skin that she slipped her fingers out of her snatch.

Amanda regarded the glistening trio of digits as they emerged with a frown; it just wasn't enough. Sometimes she just wanted to be spread out, biting down on the edge of her hand as a larger, rough pair gripped her hips so hard she could see the marks on her skin afterwards. Unfortunately, all the young woman had right now was the fantasy. How astronomical was the possibility of the tall, fit vision of masculinity she envisioned pinning her to the bunk stumbling upon her little corner of the Sevastopol?

How much more likely was it that kind of man laid cold and dead somewhere?

Amanda shuddered and pushed such a dark thought aside. A moment of inspiration - or perhaps desperation - occurred to her and the engineer leaned over the edge of the bunk to retrieve her duffel bag. She rummaged impatiently through the contents, looking for...she didn't know what. Then she spotted one of the flares. The young woman paused in consideration. It didn't take long to mull the idea over in her head, what with the insistent ache between her thighs.

Reaching into the depths of the bag, Amanda fished out one of the few that she had left. Merely gripping the cool, smoothly rounded object gave her flashes of the instance lobbing one across a room had only just saved her life as phosphorous light briefly distracted her murderous stalker. Heart pounding to a near violent rhythm, she had slowly crept out from behind a table, shaking with every careful, deliberate step as the creature crouched over the burning flare and hissed.

Echoes of that feeling, of escaping by the thinnest skin of her teeth as adrenaline pumped through her and she fought against every natural instinct to break out into a run, swept through Amanda and she yearned now more than ever for release, for pleasure to roll through her sweaty body and soothe away the tension in her muscles. Heat nevertheless crept up on the engineer's cheeks as she held the flare with intention. Christ, she must have looked desperate.

Amanda was glad there was no one about to watch.

The tube of the flare was a good fit in her hand; the goldilocks option. Amanda swallowed and wore a nervous half smile as she flipped it over, facing the business end as it were away from her body. Conveniently, the base of the flare was curved rather than flattened. The young woman noted this with a quiet sigh as she traced the shape of her labia with it, carefully nudging the little swollen button poking out from underneath its hood.

Sitting back against the wall, Amanda spread herself open with a pair of fingers after pushing her hand down through the thatch of dark curls sitting above her sex. Her mound was getting a little wild, but she had had no one to impress in some time.

A small gasp escaped the young woman as she teased the end of the flare inside, teeth peeling off her lower lip. Amanda had experience with an assortment of toys; the flare was on the thicker side. She had no complaints, only a loose smile and hooded eyes as she turned her wrist, pushed and then pulled.

The instructions labelled against the side of the flare were wetly smeared as Amanda withdrew it from her cunt. She looked down, pouting as her lips parted around the flare and tilting her head back against the wall as she felt it slide into her. Shuffling a little, Amanda spread her legs wider. She moaned lightly when her pussy clenched around the retreating length of her pseudo toy, only to thrum with delight moments later when she shoved even more of it back in.

"Oh, shit," the young woman murmured, so wet now that she squelched with every deep, twisting thrust of the flare. "That's good. That's so good."

God, she was such a slut. But what did it matter? Amanda had earned the right to be a little naughty. She was alive; she'd survived and she was going to enjoy fucking herself. Hey, why not? She was all alone and had this silent, forgotten corner of the station all to herself. A loud groan left her lips. Amanda grinned sheepishly at the sound of her own voice filling the room, tight and most certainly lewd. The next one she heard was the Sevastopol's ominous rumbling.

Amanda's hand flew from her breast, thrown out to the side to catch herself as the room suddenly tilted. The station quaked sharply and her palm set to the bunk was not enough to stop the young woman being unceremoniously dumped onto the ground. Amanda just managed to throw up her arms to cover her head in time when her duffel bag was jolted over the edge of the bunk. The contents spilled out all over her, Amanda wincing as her tools and weapons clattered to the floor after bouncing off the back of her hands.

Eventually, the Sevastopol settled again. It had fallen quiet. The young woman slowly lifted her brow off the cold floor and opened her eyes. She was met with darkness, black and near impenetrable, barely able to make out the faint outline of the bunk -

"Shit!"

Amanda blurted out the curse when a bar of light above her fizzled back to life. Startled into movement, she found herself curled up and staring at the ceiling with a heaving chest.

It took a few seconds for the panic to dull. Lowering the hand she had instinctively raised, Amanda shook her head. She was fine; it was nothing, just a light turning back on for heaven's sake. She couldn't believe the reaction it had gotten out of her. Was she going to jump at any and every little noise this god forsaken station made? Apparently so, for Amanda gave a little start when something rattled against the floor between her legs.

The engineer forced herself to breathe as she reached down to pick up the flare. Slipping wetly out of her, it glistened with the excitement Amanda no longer felt. It was probably about time she thought about getting back to Waits and the others, now that she thought about it. The mood was dead. She cursed the Sevastopol's shitty timing under her breath and pulled her panties back into place with a light snap.

The station rumbled in retaliation. It was back to its old tricks again. Crouched beside the bunk with her knees spread, Amanda went still. Underneath her bare soles, the floor finally stopped trembling. Hesitating only briefly afterwards, the young woman wiped the length of the flare clean on the thin sheets of the bunk. So what? No one was actually going to sleep in it at this rate. Amanda turned away with just a little bit of heat in her cheeks to find her duffel bag.

She looked up several moments later, paused in the act of shoving laminated noisemaker blueprints back into the bag. She was more than certain she had not just set off one of the pair sitting in the depths of the bag, but if that was case...what was that sound?

Amanda swore she wasn't just hearing things; even when she made herself completely still and waited - there it was again.

Tap, tap, tap.

On her knees at the end of the bunk in a well lit room, Amanda swallowed. Then she scowled at herself. She was more than alone. Nevertheless, the young woman set the duffel bag gently to the floor and crept forward the few inches it would take to let her look through into the common room. Aside from several magazines and a few bits and bobs scattered across the floor, and one of the sofas having been shunted into the table, everything was as it should be. And then the lights flickered.

Amanda quickly shrank back, breath caught as darkness swallowed the walls and furniture. But it was brief, only an instant before the lights buzzed back on. And in the same length of time, they once again vanished. A bead of sweat rolled down the side of Amanda's face. The common room flirted with shadows with an irregular rhythm. But whatever was making that tapping noise wasn't coming from in there. It was coming from the room across from Amanda's, and behind a half closed door that room was entirely dark.

Groaning sheets of metal somewhere close by made her skin crawl. Every instinct was telling her to pick up her shit and run, right then in that moment. She could dress herself properly when she was far, far away from this place. Dignity was way down on her list of priorities.

"Don't be an idiot, Amanda," she whispered harshly, "there's nothing to be afraid of."

She muttered that mantra over and over as she picked herself up off the floor and found her feet. Amanda took pause when her gaze flitted down and she caught sight of her flamethrower, yet to be packed away. She took a deep breath and stepped over it.

"There's nothing to be afraid of."

In her black vest and panties, Amanda crossed the common room. Her stride was confident for all of two steps until the lights died. Plunged into solid blackness, the young woman drew up short. Her throat pulsed as her hands clenched briefly into fists. She pushed air between her lips when the erratic light came back on and moved forward again, gingerly.

Seemingly locked in place, Amanda could feel the warmth beneath her pits as she set her hands to the cold edge of the half open, unpowered door. She had to work to push it entirely open, contesting with an uncomfortable prickling of her skin as she slowly exposed a pitch-black bunk room. Her chest was tight, full of air Amanda had to remind herself to breathe as she took a small step back and faced the darkness.

Tap, tap, tap.

Amanda could hear it more clearly now as she stood at the threshold of the room, a hand resting on the frame of the open door. Swallowing, she craned her head forward to peek inside. Some weak light filtered in from the common room, but not enough to illuminate the corners.

This room closely mirrored the one she had tentatively left, two bunks standing against the walls opposite each other. Personal effects were strewn across the floor. Amanda was reluctant to set a foot inside. She would have to though; standing at the edge of the room for as long as she was let the young woman realise the sounds she was hearing were coming from beyond it.

Tap, tap, tap.

And the rusty whine of pipes at the same time Amanda made the decision to move.

She practically dashed across the room. Amanda winced and bit out a curse when she kicked into something and stumbled. She sharply sucked in her breath as a sharp pain bloomed through her big toe. The offending object bounced across the floor ahead of her as Amanda emerged into the living quarter's shower room.

Drip, drip, drip.

It was the sound of fat droplets of water collecting into small puddles, falling with a plip that rang off the cold walls. That was it. That was all. Amanda straightened as she looked slowly around the room. The corners of her mouth twitched upwards. Really? The young woman laughed at herself, shaking her head. She couldn't believe it. Her vest was stuck to the crevice of her back with sweat, thanks to a pair of shower heads leaking heavily onto their respective cubicle's floor.

She hated this fucking station.

"Christ, Amanda," the engineer said, chuckling in shaky relief as she strode back into the dark bunk room, "you're such a -"

Tap. Tap. Tap.

With a hand set against the door frame and a foot about to cross over into the common room, the young woman froze. Amanda didn't breathe, but something else did. It was a low, rattling hiss, issuing hotly against the back of her neck.


	4. Alien

A long, heavy shadow draped itself over Amanda's shoulder. She trembled where she stood. Eyes pulled wide, her knuckles were white as she gripped the door frame. Her hair fluttered as a breath rattled against her nape. Amanda's own voice was the most delicate whimper as, ever so slowly, she dropped her gaze.

The sharpened tip of an alien appendage slipped down towards her chest. Glistening with an oily sheen, the prehensile tail slithered over the curve of Amanda's collar bone. The rustle of friction against her tank top vest accompanied the soft hitch in her throat. Lips quivered as the black spike pressed down between her breasts, drawing the fabric tighter around her chest. Faintly, two small bumps were outlined by black cotton. Amanda swallowed a gasp behind clenched, shuddering teeth as the tail slipped lower.

The hem of her vest was cut off just above her belly button, leaving a small amount of skin exposed between it and her crotch. Her breath was ragged, her bulging eyes straining to look down as the tapered appendage flattened against her body. It was cold against her naked flesh. A high pitched whine escaped Amanda's throat as it hooked its tip into her panties. Her body shook as a sharp hiss washed over the shell of her ear. Mounting panic squeezed away control of her bladder. Amanda slowly pissed herself. She felt it, warmth trickling wetly down the inside of her leg. Her knees were trembling as the invisible edge of a black spike effortlessly sliced through her damp underwear.

The engineer's eyes snapped up, spotting the flamethrower lying on the floor on the other side of the common room. Tattered black cotton slipped down her thighs with the merest whisper. The back of her neck was hot, the skin above her naked, urine-soaked sex cold with foreign moisture. The creature rattled as its tail probed lower, between her thighs. And Amanda finally screamed.

An alien shriek filled the room, terrible and cutting right through to her primal core. Amanda had barely taken two panicked strides before something slammed into her back and sent her sprawling. She was up again in a furious heartbeat, on hands and knees scrambling across the floor towards the flamethrower she'd foolishly, foolishly left behind. Until a cold grip latched onto her ankle.

Amanda didn't scream when she was dragged backwards. Her voice was a chorus of desperate prayers as an ominous shadow loomed above her. "Please, please, please," she whimpered, heedless of the creature's strength, of the futility of her efforts when she tried to claw forward again. It let her. Amanda murmured over and over, stretching a shaking hand over the threshold of the room - and then she screamed, when her grasping fingers were pulled away from her only saving grace.

Yanked backwards even further this time, Amanda was spun over onto her side. She lay there with an arm trapped underneath her body as a monster, a black, horrifying nightmare crawled towards her. It should be dead. It should have been trapped on a jettisoned section of the station and crushed in KG348's gravity well. Instead, it was here, the common room's weak, flickering light sloping across the long, sleek dome of its head. It was alive, impossibly, and Amanda knew that soon she no longer would be.

She mewled like a child as the creature advanced on her, tail slinking along behind it. Tap, tap, tap; the sound of its claws against the floor, unnervingly quiet for such a hulking monster. It was massive, filling her vision, owning every scrap of her attention with a frightening presence that shut down all but Amanda's primitive brain. She was bathed in cold sweat, every muscle locked tight as the creature, the Alien, brought its snarling jaws to within inches of her face.

There was no personnel locker door to stand between her and it as it sniffed. There was nothing to cower behind as thick strings of drool broke beneath their weight and fell to stain her vest. Amanda's wide, unblinking eyes did not shift when the monster bowed its head to her heaving chest, staring straight ahead past the freakish, tubular formation rising out of its back. Its slender arms corded with lean, yet powerful muscle were set to either side of her body as the creature dipped further, issuing a rattling hiss as it sniffed at her stomach.

In her present position, Amanda had her right leg crossed awkwardly over the other, pointing her crotch to the left. Curving its neck and tilting its head, the Alien gave her thighs a prolonged sniff. Its hiss as it raised its long, domed head was like a low, husky drawl. And then, from underneath the creature, Amanda heard a dull thump. Her eyes snapped down as something flopped heavily onto the floor.

Almost immediately afterwards, the young woman let out a choked, horrified cry.

A drab, murky shade of green, a long, flaccid length of meat roughly oblong in shape hung between the monster's legs. Still on all fours, emerging from god knew where, the organ pooled onto the floor, curving prominently to the left. And then it twitched. Like a worm with its head sliced off, the length of flesh twitched with a sudden, erratic movement, and with it the creature filled the room with its hiss.

Amanda didn't know what sound left her lips in that moment. The monster's screech answered it as she turned and threw herself forwards on hands and scraped knees. She screamed when it leapt on top of her and knocked the young woman flat on her stomach, upper torso halfway into the room with the flamethrower lying only inches away. Her hand scrabbled desperately for it, reaching, reaching - until the dark spike of the creature's tail curved over her and flicked it out of sight. Amanda stared at the spot where it had lain, mouth open in gaping silence. She cried out when the monster's huge phallus slapped down onto her lower back.

Now the young woman understood how densely muscled the organ was. It felt far heavier than it ought to, like a leaden weight. Lying on her front with her legs extended behind her, the creature's length rested atop the plush mounds of Amanda's ass, now thoroughly unencumbered. The crown of the phallus sat in the dip of her lower back, smearing, she felt, warm gloop onto her skin. The organ wriggled, sheer heft pressing it down into the crack between Amanda's cheeks. The creature hunched over her. The head of its penile flesh dragged backwards, slipping into her soft, posterior crevice.

Amanda yelped sharply. "No! No don't!"

She screwed her eyes shut when the monster screeched in her ear. When she opened them again, she wished she hadn't. The large, curved head leaned over her, parted jaws drooling onto the floor. Amanda started in fright when what could only be the creature's tongue extended from its mouth, flinching back as a smaller set of no less lethal teeth snapped at the air. And then it reminded her of its intent when a thick, slimy length of muscle squirmed deeper into her cheeks until something was pressing against her anus.

Amanda stared straight ahead with wide eyes, breathing hard and fast through clenched teeth. Her hands were curled into white-knuckled fists and she didn't know what to do with them. Panic was crashing through her body, desperation clawing apart her sensibilities. The creature gave a deadly, rattling hiss the moment she moved her arm, first to try and pull herself forward, though to what end she had no idea. She just had to get away; she had to do something. But something became nothing when that disgusting tongue darted out and bared glistening jaws in her face.

Amanda began to cry.

"Wait," she begged. "Please. No, no, no!"

The monster, didn't wait.

The young woman wheezed heavily as an alien cock burrowed itself into her tight, puckered hole. A long, choked whine escaped her lips as the crown forced its way through her ring of muscle. Tears rolled down her cheeks as conflicting instincts fought within her. Every inch of the creature's ruthless, sickening penetration drew biting gasps of discomfort from Amanda, yet she feared what would happen should she try and stop it. The thought of even touching it sent nausea rolling through her stomach. She was trapped and at an utter loss.

Besides, now it was too late. The creature was close to bottoming out inside her.

Amanda was fortunate her experience with toys included a number of adventurous forays into anal pleasure. Not that what she was feeling right now was anything close to good. She was simply lucky not to be outright torn open. Her pillowy cheeks were squashed beneath the creature, the burden of its sleek, black carapace cold and heavy. Amanda bowed her face to the floor, clenching her jaw. She winced harshly with every obscene movement of the phallus buried inside her, even when air whistled between her teeth as she did her best to relax her muscles. Lifting its head, the alien hissed. Amanda didn't know why she thought it sounded confused, disgruntled. The way it had her pinned to the ground made her far tighter than was remotely comfortable.

Pain momentarily overrode fear and a gasping Amanda slowly pulled forward her left knee up to the side of her body. A choked cry echoed off the floor as she carefully reached back and sank her fingers into a fleshy globe, pulling her cheek aside. The feeling of her ass opening up was a vivid moment of relief, even with a last inch of alien cock wriggling into her stretched hole. Breathing through clenched teeth, the young woman tasted salt on her lips. Her right hand was curled into a fist, nails cutting into her palm. She lifted her eyes as the creature rattled above her -

And almost screamed when a large, black hand wrapped around her head.

Hair tangled in its grip, the monster pushed Amanda's face to the floor and started to fuck her.

Her right cheek shoved into a puddle of her own spit, Amanda screwed her eyes shut. The creature's fingers felt like the legs of a spider laced across her face. The only reason she failed to cry out loud as it raped her was the spindly digit curled over her lips. She didn't dare open them. Locked in her throat, her voice was a piercing whine jolted higher with each awful, nauseating movement of the organ claiming her rectum. Her stomach clenched as tightly as her teeth, Amanda lay beneath a monster and prayed it would be all over soon.

It fucked into her like no human man ever could. The Alien didn't thrust with its body; rather it continually ground its weight down onto Amanda. With a will of its own, the full length of the creature's thick cock rummaged around deep inside her. Amanda didn't have a single clue what it was looking for. The sensation felt horrible, more so when the organ copiously oozed slime and squirmed frantically against her walls. Worse was when the phallus began to piston into her, but rather than being facilitated by the movement of the hips, it felt to Amanda like the organ compressed itself, squeezed down towards the base before shooting forward with a forceful release of speed. And it repeated the action over and over again, punching deeper and deeper and -

"Oh god," Amanda groaned raggedly.

She was disgusting, and her body was a wretched traitor. Her nails had etched red lines into the flesh of the cheek they harshly gripped and her spine was most definitely curved. Drool splattered onto the back of her vest as the Alien fiercely hissed, and without realising Amanda had lifted her own hips to push backwards. To anyone observant enough, they would have seen the tightness in the young woman's face subtly change, flickering between pain and horror to something more, something desperate.

Choked moans left her lips as her teeth unclenched. Amanda fought to bite back every last one, but she was being betrayed by her body. Her tight, anal passage, slick with slime, squelched to the pummelling rhythm of an alien cock, and there was little Amanda could do to stop the rising crest blooming outward from her core. It was tinged with fear, with terror, and still it grew, tensing the muscles in her limbs, making her chest heave into the floor and her skin hotly itch all over with the need for release.

It came suddenly, and so did she, with a cry so taut Amanda thought she would burst. She clenched her teeth so hard her head vibrated in the creature's grip. And as the orgasm tore forcefully through Amanda her body clamped down like a vice on the creature's organ, with a grip so powerful as her walls pulsed and contracted it loosed a piercing shriek and pulled itself out of her.

It left her shuddering on the floor, trembling from head to toe in a euphoric daze. Amanda's eyes rolled up into her skull, her voice dumbly leaving her lips. Not a single coherent thought remained in her head and her limbs had turned to jelly. She was lost, for a precious moment, in a world where nothing but the intense physical pleasure rolling through her body existed. And then something cold, smooth and hard nudged between her legs.

Amanda whimpered, both in the wake of her climax and renewed fear as the Alien sniffed at her wet, sopping cunt.


	5. Marlow

The Marshal had been in a rush to cover up the cell door's porthole, eager to get back to his impromptu show, so when the Sevastopol shook itself like a rousing beast the sticky tack backed leaflet was easily dislodged.

Marlow winced as he picked himself up off the floor in the aftermath of the sudden quake, mere inches away from smacking the side of his head against the wall. The station was proving itself to be a vast, crumbling heap of junk with every passing opportunity. He'd hate to be stuck in this tiny cube of a room when it finally gave up the ghost. At least, as Marlow heard a sharp curse from the other side of the door, the situation was serving to antagonise Waits. He and the man hadn't really gotten off on the right foot, par for the course when that involved the Marshal and his lackeys taking him into custody.

Finding his feet with a grunt, Marlow smiled when he glanced up at the door and found his view once more unobstructed. Catching Waits in the act of wrangling his meat while looking in uninvited on a young woman undressing herself was something he planned to use as leverage against the bastard one day, once they finally made it off the Sevastopol. It wasn't something he would volunteer to bear witness to again, but it sure was amusing. Waits beat off like he trying to pound himself in the balls, his face contorted in concentration. There was a vein pulsing underneath his temple as the man leaned in, stubbly chin jutting forward as the light from the computer monitor gave him an almost harrowed look.

With such sheer desperation on display, Marlow couldn't help but interrupt the Marshal. The man's clumsy reaction was more than worth it. Marlow was even prepared to pay the price of giving up his own seat to the fine show Ripley was inadvertently putting on, though it would've been interesting to see just what she planned to do with that flare. He had arched his brow at that. Either way, the good fortune it took to catch the woman unawares in such a circumstance had likely dried up. No doubt the Sevastopol's quaking reached whatever corner of the station she had wound up in. Marlow was eager to see frustration on Waits' face. How many people could cite blue-balling a Marshal on their resume? In the present situation, as he moved to the door and peered through the porthole, Marlow thought it was a damn fine achievement. And then his smile faded away.

"Sweet merciful mother."

Waits was staring at the computer screen, its light washing over his stony face. His desk was in disarray, papers strewn across it and the floor around his feet, but his eyes never wavered. Marlow couldn't blame the man. Even despite the grainy feed the black, hulking form crawling on all fours towards a young, terrified woman was unmistakeable.

"I thought you got rid of the bastard," Marlow hissed through the door.

Waits didn't turn to him. "So did I."

"Well what the fuck are you going to do? Ripley's -"

"Dead," the Marshal said. "It's over."

It was cold, callous, but what could Marlow do but agree?

He watched as she stared at the nightmare before her, frozen in sheer fright. He watched as, though almost inquisitive, it leaned in its sleek, domed head to sniff at the scent of its prey. Marlow watched as the creature pounced on Ripley when she suddenly turned and tried to bolt, pinning her to the ground. She was reaching into the room he had first saw her in, and he had to squint to make out the shape on the floor her fingers were inching towards - until a long, black tail reached it first. The flamethrower flicked out of sight. And Ripley was well and truly doomed. All she wanted was to unravel the fate of her mother. Marlow knew it. He had the damn recording sitting out there on his ship. He closed his eyes and turned away as the Alien opened its jaws over her head. Unlike the Marshal, he couldn't make himself watch Amanda die.

Marlow counted the seconds. He knew it wouldn't take long; the creature was ruthless. When he opened his eyes and looked back up however, it was to find that Waits still had his eyes glued to the computer screen. And he was reaching for his belt. Marlow blinked, then slowly turned to the screen himself. The camera the Marshal had been using to spy on Ripley predominantly had a view of a common room, complete with a trio of sofas around a round table, and the angle at which the Alien leapt onto and pinned her to the floor granted an almost side on view of disturbingly strange pair. Pair was apparently an appropriate descriptor in the moment, because -

"What the fuck is it doing?" Marlow breathed.

Waits, snapping open his buckle after a moment with an odd curve to his mouth, answered plainly. "Her."

* * *

"You're a twisted bastard, Marshal."

Marlow, in his time, had seen many things, but this was something he could scarcely believe was actually happening. He was having a hard time deciding which was worse, the rape of a young woman by a creature born of the darkest childhood terrors or the fact that Waits had his cock out and was stroking himself to it.

"I prefer to think of myself as an opportunist," the man replied.

Marlow smacked his fist against the door of his cell. "You should be figuring out a way to help her, not getting your fucking rocks off!"

"I wouldn't need to if you hadn't interrupted me earlier."

Marlow clenched his jaw as he looked back at the computer screen. Ripley was trapped underneath the Alien, face turned towards Waits' spying eye. Pain was etched sharply into her features, teeth bared in a silent hiss as the creature hunched over her, huge and imposing. The woman's gaze was stretched wide; Marlow didn't want to think what else might be.

"Get off your ass, Waits," he growled at the man. "Even if you're too damn cold to care about Ripley, that...thing will slaughter the rest of us when it's finished with her."

The Marshal didn't reply, focused intently on the monitor. Marlow couldn't help but look himself. Ripley had pulled her left leg up to the side of her body and there was something different to her expression. The pure horror and fear in her eyes was tainted. Waits saw it before he did, leering at the computer screen. "Goddamn it," the man muttered, pumping vigorously. "I knew you were a slut."

Marlow beat his fist against the door again. "You blew that monster off the damn station, Waits!"

"Stop whining," the Marshal said distractedly. "We'll deal with it."

"You couldn't get rid of the damn thing the first time -"

"I'll figure it out," the man growled, "like I've been doing all along to save everyone's collective ass."

"But first you're going to blow your load to the fucker killing our only engineer?" Marlow fired back.

Waits gave him a sidelong glance. "I'm going to do just that. And you're going to watch, aren't you?" he said, catching his face filling the porthole.

"You're sick."

The man smirked at his retort. "A hypocrite shouldn't be so quick to judge. I'm honest, at least." Waits returned his attention to the camera feed. "I'll tell you something, I'd be more than happy to be the one putting that look on the cheeky bitch's face."

"You're a goddamn piece of work, Marshal."

"That I am. Now how about you shut up in there and enjoy the show."

Marlow's jaw was tight as he swallowed, glancing back at the computer screen. Perhaps unbidden, perhaps not, something was rippling across the young woman's face. He recognised it for what it was, and it was making it all the more difficult to deny that watching her rape was making his skin itch warmly. At least behind the thick cell door, Waits couldn't see the stiff bulge between his thighs.

Everything about Ripley's circumstance was utterly wrong and yet his fucking cock was rock hard. Jesus, he was just as sick as the old bastard. But there was something about watching the woman cry out and scream underneath the Alien that made his mouth dry and tongue thick. He knew what he was doing as his hand crept down towards his belt. Marlow felt like scum scraped of a filthy boot sole, but damn it all he was aching now. No one would know, except perhaps Waits. But what did it matter? Perhaps Marlow could convince the Marshal to shoot him before the inevitable occurred, because once that monster was done with Ripley it would find the rest of them. Her fate was not one he wanted to share.

Waits grunted, tightening up and leaning back in his chair. His fist was a blur, swallowing the swollen head of his shaft before plunging down onto his bloated sack. The sight curled Marlow's lips in something approximating distaste, but it wasn't enough to stop him reaching for his own cock. The scream that came from the Bureau foyer, however, was.

The moment was ill-timed for the Marshal. Marlow watched as it caught the man at his peak, satisfaction followed ever so suddenly by sharp alarm. Waits forgot himself and sat up straight as another shout followed the first, white goo leaking out over the top of his fist down onto his trousers. The explosive pop of gunfire startled Marlow into releasing his warm, throbbing shaft and he pressed himself up against the door, cheek squashed against the glass of the porthole. "Waits. Waits! What the hell is going on out there?" he said. But the Marshal didn't have a chance to reply. He was spared the need, in fact, when a terrible screech answered the screams.

Both men jumped as something slammed into the Bureau door.

"Waits, open the door! Open the door, please -!"

The woman's voice stopped abruptly. Marlow distinctly heard the wet thud and splatter that silenced it.

From his cell he couldn't see the Bureau's main entrance, and when something crashed with violent force against the door for that he was thankful. He couldn't be happier to be stuck where he was, hidden behind a securely locked door. Waits, on the other hand, didn't have any similar benefits afforded to him. He was left out in the open. But unlike Marlow, the man didn't turn coward. The Marshal soiled the leg of his trousers as he wiped his hand clean, wearing a grim look as he rushed to tuck himself away. He pushed away from the desk afterwards, promptly disappearing from view. All Marlow was left with was the sounds of dying, of screams and the blasts of a shotgun, and the computer screen, glowing with an almost eerie light.

Ripley was on her feet, but she stood ensnared underneath the shadow of the creature. It was all too clear what it was doing to her now; every thrust shook her bodily. The sight of the creature driving into her from behind sickened him. It sickened him as his cock, wilted by fear, surged to life. For a moment Marlow forgot himself, leaning forward like a man under a spell as he watched the pronounced curve of Ripley's body jolt to an untimely rhythm. He licked his lips and swallowed. And then he jumped back in fright as something slammed into the porthole window. It was Waits, and Waits was screaming. Except the man's voice was smothered by the pale white creature wrapped around his head.

Colour drained out of Marlow, leaving him ashen as he watched the Marshal claw desperately at his face. The man spun wildly, smacking his hip against the edge of his desk. A hand flew out, searching, reaching for something - anything. But it was already too late. Marlow knew it; he knew it too well. He saw his wife falling to the ground as Waits tripped over his own feet, writhing as she tried to pull that freak of nature off of her. His jaw was set, teeth painfully clenched as Waits' struggles gradually began to subside, a fist beating impotently against the creature's back. It made his stomach roil just to watch. He could barely even begin to imagine what it would be like were he the one -

A terrible, rattling snarl issued from alien jaws and Marlow was struck cold.

He was coiled into a ball underneath the porthole in the next second, sweating profusely. The man's eyes bulged out of his head as he heard the thing's footsteps. Slow and heavy, they drew near to his cell, outside which Marshal Waits gurgled his last breath. He heard the rustle of a long, lethal tail dragging along the floor behind it. His chest pounded as it came to a stop. The monster uttered a low, threatening hiss, and Marlow prayed. He had spent his life a godless man, but he knew of no other way to procure himself a miracle. He was dead otherwise.

The Alien lingered, hissing intermittently as Marlow huddled like a small child up against the door. He dared not move in case it raised its long head to investigate the porthole and saw him scuttling into the furthest corners of the cell. It suddenly occurred to him with that thought that Taylor, one of Ripley's companions who had been brought into the Bureau unconscious and injured, lay resting across the room in the med-bay, with its wide, transparent windows. Marlow promptly forgot her in the next moment; he was no hero. The woman was as good as dead. Perhaps Taylor would luck out and be slaughtered in her sleep. Or perhaps she would end up like Ripley.

Quivering, Marlow remembered the engineer. And he remembered the creature in whose grasp she stood, ruthlessly taken with god knew what manner of organ. The man failed to breathe as it slowly dawned him. It was less a light bulb sparking to life and more cold dread dripping down the shallow crevice of his spine. There was more than one of those things. There was more than one. And then above Marlow's head, the ceiling suddenly rattled.

Just like that, his protective little box became a cage. A black spike punched through the ceiling, tearing a hole into the room. The monster waiting outside it screeched. Marlow screamed as another dropped down into the cell with him.


	6. Breeder

Amanda's ass had gotten her into trouble again, only this time for all the wrong reasons. The creature, she knew now, was snarling in discontent as with utter mercilessness its writhing member violated her. The tight hole it had burrowed itself deep inside was not the one it wanted. She realised this when the creature's long tail wrapped around her middle and pulled her up, propping the engineer on shaky knees.

With the weight of her body pressing her chest into the floor, Amanda was too weak to fight, to try and bolt away or cry out for help - if such suicidal thoughts had occurred to her at all. She did not even dare to look back as the full heft of an alien cock slapped down onto the crack of her butt, sinking down into the fleshy crevice. The thick, slimy length of it dragged downwards, accompanied by a long, drawn out hiss, and Amanda was trembling as it wriggled over her sore, stretched anus. A reflexive clench puckered her smarting hole, but it would be little more than a futile defence. Fear kept her still, kept her locked in place, because now, cruelly, she understood with brutal clarity the Alien's intent.

Her rape was no accident; it was not a freakish, anomalous display of behaviour. This monster had hunted her ceaselessly all over the Sevastopol, stalking her through the vents and shadows, and now she knew why.

Amanda took the Alien's penetration with a silent scream. It was not a swift thing, like a man hot with lust. That was something she had yearned for not a few minutes earlier, a stiff dick sliding into her cunt as a gorgeous, muscular body pressed her into the bunk mattress. This was not that. The creature's cockhead nudged like a curious snout against her before suddenly squirming to split apart slick, swollen lips. Amanda didn't have the room to feel shame, only mounting nausea as more than nine inches of dense penile flesh wormed its way into her.

She knew the measurement only because one specific toy in her collection could ever make her feel this full. Or half as full, because that thing certainly didn't have the girth of the meat stuffing itself inside her. Moisture sprayed over her lower lip as Amanda clenched her teeth, the scream locked behind them becoming a long, frothing whine. Size queen or no, the young woman had never taken something this big so deep and the position she was held up in only made things worse. Her walls were tight around the squirming intrusion, battered by its thrashing as it burrowed itself into her. And the Alien rattled sharply with each slimy inch, hissing like a punctured gas canister when Amanda's soft buns yielded to the pressure of its weight.

It was hilted inside her, so deep that the engineer felt sick. It made her skin crawl, the thought that entered her head as she bowed her brow to the cold floor and a throaty gasp escaped unlocked teeth. This was rape, forced on her by an alien, a ruthless killer - a _monster_. And yet, in the moment, all Amanda could of was that she had never in her life felt so full. That changed immediately in the next.

Two things occurred in harrowing succession. The Alien pounced on Amanda without warning, and now she screamed. Its harsh breath against her nape stirred her hair as large, long-fingered hands gripped onto her shoulders. The strength the creature belied was frightening, pulling the woman up off the ground in an instant. Suddenly she was upright, and the swift altering of position reminded her all the more poignantly just how thoroughly she was penetrated. For the moment, because then the next thing happened.

Amanda's eyes popped out of her skull when the Alien's squirming phallus abruptly stopped - and went completely rigid.

The creature's erection was sudden and forceful. Dense muscle stiffened and lengthened, another inch of cock almost physically growing inside Amanda and lifting her up off of her bare heels. Slime oozed into the merest gaps between her walls and the hard phallus, crammed so tightly now inside the engineer that the lubricating emission seeped out of her packed cunt to dribble in gloopy rivulets down the insides of creamy white thighs, Amanda, wholly impaled on the Alien's shaft, had no words to describe the sound that left her throat. Whatever it was, the Alien gave a long, searing hiss in response.

The sleek curve of its head hung over hers as its hands wrapped around her biceps, pinning the woman's arms to her sides. Spindly fingers criss-crossed her chest, pointed tips that could so easily puncture flesh pressing through Amanda's tank top vest into her breasts. Heavy strings of drool from its rattling jaws laced the air in front of her face, glistening underneath the common room's flickering lights. The Alien yanked her back so that her shoulders met the sleek bones of its exoskeletal chest, and even if she wanted to fight it she couldn't. Amanda realised too late that the creature's prehensile tail was slithering up the front of her body. Before she could even think to react, the thing was coiled around her neck.

Balanced precariously on the balls of her feet by the strong cock upon which she skewered, and pulled back against the monster with double the force, a prominent arch was bent into Amanda's spine that served to squash her plump cheeks up against its carapace. Her belly curved smoothly down towards the thatch of hair crowning stuffed, stretched lips as a result, which glistened with the product of her own humiliating arousal. Made taut thanks to her posture, the young woman's calves quickly started to burn, the ache spreading up the back of her knees to bloom across toned thighs where cords of muscles were tensely strung.

The blunt edge of a dozen bony ridges dug into the engineer's throat, squeezing in with enough pressure to make her panic. Amanda's breath was slowly being wrung out of her. Heedless of the danger, her brain selfishly engaging the most primitive instincts to save itself, hands flew up to grab the Alien's tail - but only reached the height of her chest, restricted by the cold grip on her arms. Pain blossoming hotly through her legs, Amanda dropped down onto the flat of her soles. Tried to, at least. It was a mistake either way. Eyes wide, she spluttered, choking when the constriction around her throat tightened. And then, as the woman lifted herself off her heels with a grunt, the Alien moved. Or rather, it started to fuck her. Except this felt nothing like sex.

The first, driving thrust the creature made felt like a punch.

Amanda rocked forward onto the balls of her feet, a harsh gasp spilling out of her mouth as an alien cock stabbed into her cunt. Pillowy buttocks absorbed the brunt of the shock of its body slamming against her, the force of the impact blooming up through the arch in her lower back. Her chest heaved forward, lungs tight as the wind was thumped out of her. And then she felt the Alien slowly withdrawing, free momentarily of the cold touch of its carapace.

Traitorous in instinctive intent her walls clenched, with a gross, wet sound trying to suck in the hefty, rigid length of alien penile flesh. But then even Amanda didn't know what she wanted when the monster surged back into her, filling her so completely with stiff cockmeat that her eyes rolled up towards the ceiling. The woman's mouth hung open in a state of stupor, the Alien's elongated hiss punctuated by choked wheezing. Globs of slimy, mingled juices splattered onto the floor as the creature partially dragged itself out of her, nether lips rolling outwards as inch after inch of thick, murky green muscle slid between them.

The engineer's senses were in utter disarray and her mind had melted into the puddle between her feet. Black spots were creeping up on the edges of her vision and Amanda barely heard her own strangled, monosyllabic voice as the Alien fucked into her.

"Oh - _god_ \- argh! - shit - fuck - _fuck -_ _ungh_ \- hard - urrrgh!"

The creature's stroke was irregular, keeping Amanda on her literal toes. As though encouraged by the round buffer of her ass, the Alien battered its full weight against plush, white, rippling mounds, driving, seeking - _fucking_ her. The lewd squelch of a greedy pussy followed the meaty clap of the creature slamming against her cheeks, and as it jammed its full length ruthlessly into the young woman, pushing deep even when its exoskeletal hips flattened soft, yielding flesh underneath them, Amanda could feel its huge, stiff shaft slide impossibly deeper.

With each thrust now she could feel the slight nudge of its crown against cervix, swiftly becoming a dull thump that tightened her core in discomfort. It was an added note of dissonance amongst all the other wild chords at play, and Amanda was too far gone to actively process it. There was a fiery ache in her chest, tears in her eyes as in futility she tried to reach her throat. The tips of her fingers brushed against the ridges of the Alien's tail, slipping off each time it rammed into her cunt and jolted her bodily.

The monster was snarling now, fiercely as it gripped her harder. Amanda yelped through gritted teeth as its long, pointed digits dug into her breasts, splitting apart the minuscule threads of her vest to press into tender flesh. It was thrusting harder too, if that was even possible, driving with such force that the woman felt like it was fucking her stomach. Such a notion was absurd, to Amanda, to any sensible thinking human being. But the Alien was just that; alien.

The woman's eyes abruptly grew round like plates . A choked, unintelligible protest escaped her lips as an eager hiss filled her ears like a burst of static. Amanda, for the first time since she had been pulled onto her feet, felt a horrible squirming sensation at the depths of her intimate core. It stabbed forwards without warning. She cried out as it struck her cervix, instinctively clenching down with every last muscle. It was the worst thing she could have done. The violent toss of her head and a desperate shout afterwards amounted to nothing. The Alien was a cruel, implacable monster.

Amanda screamed as it pierced the crown of its cock into her womb.

* * *

When the woman opened her eyes again, she found herself face down on the floor, limbs boneless and splayed out around her. She hurt between the legs, so sore that Amanda moaned tearfully with her first conscious breath. The common room light was steady again, she noticed then. That brought her little comfort, not when she could feel it seeping thickly out of her. _It_ , was ejaculate.

The Alien had spent itself inside her. She remembered, with clarity that sickened her near to the point of vomiting right there and then, the sensation of what felt like a hose turned to full. It was nothing like a man's ejaculation, in weakening spurts releasing strings of gloopy white. The creature gushed, continuously, with hot cum that splashed against the walls of her womb. And something else amidst the spray of ejaculate, Amanda thought, though that was the moment the combination of blinding pain and asphyxiation stole her consciousness, like a lump that pelted up into her. But perhaps she was dreaming; perhaps this was all an extreme, sordid fantasy and in reality she lay upon a bunk in an abandoned living quarters, dead to the world.

Or perhaps not.

The rattle was soft and drawn out, fading slowly into silence. Her eyes and cheeks wet, Amanda looked up and turned her head to the left. There it was, crouched underneath the window looking out into the corridor. It parted its jaws as her gaze fell on it, a black, grotesque tongue flitting out and snapping at the air. Amanda started to shake, but not with fear; she didn't even have the strength to be afraid anymore. Tears slipped off her chin as the Alien canted forward onto its hands. Muscles throbbed in her jaw as it crawled towards her.

"Just kill me," Amanda whispered, with the monster's sharp, glistening teeth inches away from her face. It was over. She couldn't...she just _couldn't_. She just wanted this bastard, this _monster_ to get it over with. It had tortured her long enough, hunting her like an animal with barely a moment's rest from its stalking shadow. And then, now, it had ruined her, invading Amanda so deeply she felt disgusted by her own existence. "So finish it," she told the fucker, lips trembling as it leaned forward with a quiet hiss. "Kill me!"

It moved, suddenly, and startled the woman jumped in her skin - but all the Alien had done was lift its great head, turning to the doorway of the room she had been occupying. Amanda followed suit, and this time fear took over her. Surely, the engineer thought, her eyes were playing tricks on her. Surely this could not be real. Nevertheless, her mouth hung open in silent terror as a second Alien, a perfect mirror to the first, dragged its tail behind it into the common room.

Amanda felt so small, so helpless and pathetic as both creatures hovered over her prone, leaking form. Even when smooth, long domes nudged between her thighs and sniffed at her aching sex, the woman moved not a single muscle. There were two of them. There was more than one. Always, there had been more than one. Amanda stared straight ahead, crying softly and waiting for the inevitable. But it never came, that swift, silent stab of the creatures' lethal tails into her back. Neither did either of them send little jaws smashing gruesomely through her face. Both, after investigating the abuse the first wrought on her, simply left.

She lay there for some time, even once they had gone. Encompassed by silence, Amanda trembled, in fear, and pain and confusion. Her mind could not unravel what was real and what was not, and so she remained as though the monsters were still there, hissing at each other over her warm, human body. One that had been brutally used and violated. Bile coursed up her throat and the young woman threw up, splattering vomit all over the floor. She retched hard and threw up again shortly afterwards, shaking weakly as her body wracked itself.

Or something wracked it.

Amanda felt it then, unmistakeably; something moving in her womb.


End file.
